Health Workers

The Beast Who Hails From Venice

the time is slow and hungry ghouls wander around

stay up ‘till sunrise,

don’t dare to make a sound

the beast will hear you- 

he who roams the streets

for his deadly touch smothers

everyone he meets

yes, children, beware

of this beast that walks

for he will give you a good, last scare:

this beast who hails from venice,

he strangles hundreds at a time without hesitation; be wary of this beast

tens of tales have been told though these meandering roads, but you best believe they’re true,

for he is too real, and his touch too unforgiving.

the beast was filled with cries and shouts, but the size of his heart never grew.

he growls and pounces

despite all their pleas

and he lays them to sleep

leaves a feast for the fleas 

his feathers drag on the pavement

like nails on a chalkboard

his eyes yellowed and ancient

like an old, unopened heart

his soul cold and helpless

his breath poison gas dancing into windows

his reign seemingly endless;

the beast who hails from venice.

alas, confined chaos collides

and people keep dying

morgues overflow

new orphans are crying

as this beast strolls the towns

at last, the dark midnight passes 

in the halted houses, in the homes

and the hunters roll by on the silent grasses-

gleefully shouting, “we’ve caught the beast!”

and the people wave and kiss them ‘thanks and goodbye’

as children, for the first time in weeks, look up at the sky

for the hunters with white coats 

and the stethoscopes have finally caught 

this terrible,

beautiful beast

of ours.